Blowing Season

Winds of Change?

I laboured over publishing this. I’ve taken weeks of conversations, information gathering, lots of reflection and a little writing that was mostly completed long before Hurricane Melissa formed. I just checked the news. 32 minutes ago, at time of publishing, Melissa has strengthened to a catastrophic Category 5 hurricane that is headed for Jamaica and Cuba. It has already impacted Haiti and the Dominican Republic (my deepest sympathies). While I worry about the lighter tone of some aspects of the piece, I hope they become effective metaphors that arrest attention and make the message more impactful to inspire committed and transformational support. I have added a section to highlight and honour the work and efforts of climate entrepreneurs from Jamaica as their island braces for the hurricane’s landfall later tonight or tomorrow morning. My heart goes out to the Northern Caribbean islands and all those impacted. I hope this piece inspires meaningful change. My prayers are with you.

The weather is being weird again. I’m sitting in my living room looking out at the flowering tree I planted a few years ago and not a single leaf is moving. The tree leans to the left, as do all the trees out here. The wind that blows across this hill is so strong that all the trees bow to her in submission. We never see her. She usually moves quietly, dancing with leaves, lifting fabrics, kissing and cooling faces. I love when she carries the sweet scent of fresh cut sugarcane on a summer night’s drive or the scent of molasses, rum and waste water on my morning beach walk.

“Palm trees are swaying, light winds are blowing, softly they sing their song,

To welcome you and yours to the island, this is where you belong.”

- Barbadian Folksong (learned by oral tradition)

The trade winds used to cool my island, and I could count on the delight of a light Caribbean breeze but not anymore! Today is a scorcher and Mother Earth’s wind is giving all of us “the silent treatment”. I’ll take her silence and sweat it out though, because anything is better than her fury unleashed.

Blowing Season

I recently had the opportunity to speak at Pratt Institute’s Earth Action Week and to deepen relationships with a thoughtful community of change-makers. All of my communities provide access to new worlds and ways of seeing and being. Through these connections (gratitude to Professor Mary McBride for the share) I learned of an art show in Canada where I was arrested by a line from a multimedia art piece. “The rainy season readies us, the blowing season carries us”.

Credit: “Detail of Deborah Jack, “the fecund, the lush and the salted land waits for a harvest… her people… ripe with promise, wait until the next blowing season” (2022) (photo Rea McNamara/Hyperallergic)”

https://hyperallergic.com/1033734/caribbean-artists-take-on-the-myth-of-tropical-escapism-remai-modern/?utm_source=ActiveCampaign&utm_medium=email&utm_content=Sonya%20Clark%20s%20Communal%20Tapestries%20%5BCorrected%5D&utm_campaign=D081425%20%28Copy%29

I immediately thought of hurricane season. I’d never heard of it referred to in this way… such a cute name, “Blowing Season”: it brings to mind birthday candles, cake and sprinkles, not the horrors of a Category 5. The wind in a hurricane is not the same night breeze I sang about in primary school. She blows out candles on a good day but puts out lights on a bad one.

Not long ago I sat on an upper verandah enjoying the night breeze, sounds of the sea, grasshoppers and the chatter of different island accents as I connected with friends, new and old, who I’d met at Carifesta XV. The conversation shifted to cities, industrialisation, innovation, climate change and our destruction of the planet. In the nonchalant, somewhat distracted and off-handed commentary that easy-going islanders have mastered, Trinidadian product designer, Arnaldo James quipped, “We’re not destroying the planet. We’re destroying our ability to live on her. Mama Earth go be fine. She would kill all of we first, tek she time and heal she-self. She go be fine.” (Arnaldo, I told you I’d quote you one day - look ting!).

How arrogant and ignorant we’ve been! To think we thought we could ever destroy the planet and come out the victors. Just as the trees are wise enough to bow to the wind, we might want to reconsider our bad behaviour, take her silent treatment as a warning and shape up.

What if Mother Earth Is Caribbean

Mother Earth behaves like an old-time Caribbean mother: “Hard-ears yuh wouldn’t hear, own way yuh gine feel.” She lives by that old Bajan proverb that preceded punishment or that followed the first howls of pain from children experiencing the natural consequences of disobedience: a cut from a fall out of a neighbour’s mango tree; a sore bottom from a tumble in the gully you weren’t supposed to be in.

Children feel the pain and are reminded that they brought this on themselves, even as she cleans up the cuts and scrapes and offers a drink of cold water to soothe the tears and hiccups. We, small islanders, did not anger Mama Earth the most or put the world in this position, but we will feel her wrath first. When she loses her temper, it’s “Peter pay for Paul, and Paul pay for all.” I told you, she’s Caribbean.

Climate Innovation: The “Bottom-stuffing” Mitigation

When faced with a furious, Caribbean mum of yester-year, excuses will not work because back chat is rude. Running is a bad idea; she will be angrier that we made her work to find us. The punishment is coming. Ask any “hard-ears” school-boy. He knows. We prepare to mitigate the worst by stuffing our bottoms (a little extra padding never hurt) and going to her in contrite submission. To borrow that metaphor, when preparing to face a furious Mama Earth, maybe our best hope in the region is in innovative approaches to climate mitigation. These kinds of innovations might help provide the padding needed to survive and recover from a good trouncing.

Musings of a mostly good little boy:

Dear Paul,

I’m deeply concerned about the situation that has evolved over the years (centuries?) in your zeal for the comforts of development and wealth at the expense of others and the angering of our Earth Mum. I’m not particularly happy about how this has played out and would like to gently encourage you to “address the mess”. We, the Peters, are doing the best we can and are encouraging of such efforts that help us all find a better path to development than the one you took. Additionally, please stop pissing off our Mother Earth!

With righteous indignation and fear of our pending trouncing, your dear brother, Peter.

The Global Innovation Index & The Caribbean

“Bottom-stuffing efforts” have been happening all over the region for many years. Yet, it may not be enough. One super storm can undo investments and everything gained over decades of development. The Global Innovation Index (GII) was published recently and the Caribbean is represented by 4 countries. After an 8-year absence from 2016-2024, my island of Barbados Ranked 84th out of 139 economies in the 2025 rankings. Impact from initiatives such as the Oceana Innovation Hub, lead by Director, Che Greenidge, stand as beacons of hope for a flourishing future. The Dominican Republic ranked 97^th and Trinidad ranked 114th. Jamaica ranked 83rd, maintaining a streak of appearing on the GII in recent years. According to the World Intellectual Property Office (WIPO), in 2025, Jamaica performed better in innovation outputs than innovation inputs. Might this suggest that they are doing more with less?

Emerson John-Charles, vocal champion of innovation and ISO 56001 in Trinidad and Tobago noted, “The Global Innovation Index should not demoralize us; it should mobilize us. By moving from critics to champions of innovation, we can reshape our global narrative.”

Emerson John-Charles, Trinidad

Fellow member of the Caribbean Circle for Economics of Innovation

As published in guardian.co.tt

Honouring Jamaica’s Climate Innovators

Both long and short-term technology adoption are on the rise in Jamaica, which now leads the Caribbean on the Global Innovation Index, just one point ahead of Barbados. While Hurricane Melissa gathered force and shifted toward the island, the Caribbean Climate Innovation Center (CCIC), based in Kingston, Jamaica, was preparing to send its CEO, Carlinton Burrell, to Poland to join Jamaican climate entrepreneurs who won the CCIC ScaleItUp Accelerator.

Their work is a testament to innovative climate entrepreneurship in small island developing states. Despite lower innovation inputs and a well-known challenge in receiving global venture capital investment for the region’s cleantech entrepreneurs (read more at https://theislandsproject.org/), these 3 businesses are finding ways to move forward.

Towerfarms Limited, founded by John-Mark Clayton and Kerri-Anne Gray, advances vertical and urban farming to strengthen food security and resilience. Phinetic, founded by Joanna Anderson, designs solar-powered, biomimetic technologies that tackle desalination, potentially addressing water scarcity, food insecurity, and the wider challenges of climate change. Carbon Neutral Initiative Limited, led by Damani Thomas, champions Jamaica’s transition toward net-zero through sustainable energy (biofuel) and carbon-offset innovation.

Source: https://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/news/20251008/three-climate-entrepreneurs-represent-jamaica-europe

Beyond these ventures, a Compete Caribbean-supported Conch Cluster is paving the way for a future of sustainable and traceable seafood in Jamaica. The cluster recently earned certification under the globally recognised Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) standards. This achievement advances responsible marine resource management and economic opportunity for coastal communities.

Source: https://www.competecaribbean.org/jamaican-conch-cluster-achieves-msc-certification-paving-the-way-for-sustainable-seafood-excellence/#:~:text=Jamaican Conch Cluster Achieves MSC,Excellence - Compete Caribbean Partnership Facility

These and other initiatives inspire hope as innovation and sustainability meet practical action by local people, in a resource-constrained local context. They are a living testament to Jamaica’s valiant effort in shifting their climate-change story.

An Angry Mama Earth & A Call for Commitment

Yet, as Hurricane Melissa approaches, so much of that progress stands at risk. At this time of writing, Jamaica, the regional leader in Caribbean innovation, faces a hurricane capable of erasing gains that took decades to build. A single storm can undo years of development, investment and hard-earned growth. Beyond the ecological and economic toll, the threat to life, livelihood, education and emotional well-being across Jamaica and every island in Melissa’s path calls for compassion and decisive, collective action.

While urgent relief in the storm’s aftermath will be vital, evidence of committed care lies in proactive global commitment that goes beyond sympathy, thoughts and prayers to sustained action and systemic change.

Lasting commitment might look like patient capital and long-term investment for our small islands as we stand bravely on the frontlines of climate change, prepared to face our Earth Mother’s wrath. This supports real resilience, not just survival of the storm and its immediate aftermath. Meaningful commitment could look like the equitable global prioritisation of sustainable businesses and practices that enable both people and planet to flourish, recognising that not everyone has the same context or privileges to leverage. Commitment looks like thoughtful consideration in the AI race. Prioritising clean energy and the design of sustainable policies and systems, might come at the expense of speed. As the world chases AI breakthroughs and promotes widespread AI adoption, the energy required for expanding AI operations, as is, on an already feverish planet, is a cost far too high to ignore. We can do better.

“When we talk about the planetary tax of AI, we must account for its second-order effects, not just the energy it consumes, but the environmental & social systems it reshapes. Innovation without clear prioritisation risks becoming extraction. To truly measure its impact on the Caribbean, we must ask: Who pays? Who benefits? And what legacy are we coding into our future?”

— Brendan Heyck, Co-founder of Island Innovators, Grenada

Fellow member of the Caribbean Circle for Economics of Innovation

In this journey of transition, will we intentionally imagine and design better pathways to a preferred future? Will we remember to gain the consent of nature and check in with each other as we create, develop and grow? These answers matter.

Yard Lessons in Consent, Patience & Listening

At Carifesta XV, I listened to Barbadian designer, Israel Mapp, as he shared the Dutch word “Zoöp” and gave voice to life we don’t usually hear as he walked through the green courtyard at Union Collaborative. He showed footage carrying an abundant harvest of bananas from his urban regeneration project site in the capital city of Bridgetown where he listens to nature as she speaks. It reminded me of two trees in my yard that teach lessons in consent.

I was chatting with a friend in Antigua about this piece; the hot, still summer we’d experienced; and our fears of a storm brewing over the heated ocean. He mentioned that the old people in Antigua would tell you that unusual harvests (like out of season abundance) wasn’t a good sign. We both hoped the Caribbean might escape a bad hurricane season this year but his trees had issued their warning so we wait and pray for our sister islands.

My Daddy planted a sugar apple tree some years ago that stands just outside my front door. I look forward to the season every year. I picked one this morning at the end of October, very late in the season with a few more left for me to pick in November. The first time I harvested sugar apples myself (they were always given to me by people who knew when to pick them), I selected a few big ones that I thought might soon be ripe, based on their size. The green monkeys weren’t going to sit on my fence, cross their feet and boldly watch me while eating my sugar apples! No sir!

I put down the sugar apples and waited. Every single sugar apple turned black and rotted. I asked my neighbour, with whom I share the tree, and she said, “Yuh can’t pick sugar apples early. Dem would rot before they ripe.” She showed me how to watch, wait and pick them. I noted the lesson in consent, watched, waited for the fruit to open up and I now enjoy my sweet sugar apples (as do the monkeys). The Jamaican ackee tree I planted in the backyard offers a more advanced lesson in consent. Fortunately, I knew how to respect that tree and her fruit long before planting it. With that tree, she will poison and kill those who refuse to wait for her to show signs of readiness or who don’t respect her preferences for preparation.

We all want to enjoy life’s bounties; harvests, abundance and the sweet life aren’t only desired by agrarian societies. The global story of development has been humanity’s pursuit of a sweet life. Mistakes have been made. The Earth was not respected and her consent was not always sought. Will we watch, wait and be respectful of nature or, in our greed, will we fool ourselves into believing that we have the right and the power to snatch, grab and consume all we want, however and whenever we want?

On a good day, we might get off easy with just a “sugar-apple level warning” equivalent to rotting fruit. We might not get to enjoy all we wanted but we’re alright. But Jamaican ackee trees teach harder lessons with harsher consequences. As Caribbean ancestors tell us, “Hard ears, yuh wouldn’t hear, own way, yuh will feel.” If we don’t want to feel the unpleasant consequences, we should learn to listen. In the race for development, perhaps we confused power with permission. So many of us have mistaken dominance of the planet for partnership with her. She did not consent.

Maybe, if we learn to listen again to the trees in our yards (maybe the dwindling number of trees and yards is part of the problem) and to Mama Earth herself we might find that prosperity and positive innovation is really about regaining nature’s consent and cooperation. May we bow in respect and reverence like the trees on the hill where I live, ready to listen and design the futures that she and we will thrive in. Mama Earth, as sweet as she is, has quite a temper for which we are no match.

Flourishing futures aren’t utopias; they’re acts of remembering. They ask us to reimagine business not as extraction, but as care work, rooted in reciprocity with land, culture, and community. They begin the moment we decide to listen to Earth as a teacher, not an asset.

- Ondine Hogeboom, Founder/Director, Flourishing Startups